Guarded
by teceraca
Summary: Minako really just wants to hold Akihiko's hand. However, his gloves always seem to be guarding them.


It had begun with the slamming of fists on wood at the Yamagishi rescue briefing. She'd never paid much mind to Akihiko's _hands,_ but in that moment, he certainly succeeded in commanding the attention of the room to the source of zealous clatter. Paired with the distress pulling on his brow, Minako comprehends just how much **spirit** and _passion_ is expressed through knuckles clenched tight. No wonder they doubled as his weapon.

A pubescent mind had grappled with realization, quickly molding admiration to girlish _fancy_ and _fixation_. Even disciplined mind and breath start to waver as _crushing_ thoughts infiltrate daydreams. Surely, such _trained_ appendages are capable of many things besides punches? She can't help but wonder what it might be like to handle some of that raw resolve for herself; if only a touch of bare skin would _allow_ it.

Minako ( the unabashed, unflappable queen bee of Gekkoukan; mentally one-step ahead, sweeping you up into the two-step of your own emotions before you even know it ) _**doesn't blush**_. Thank the gods that counter-point remains locked away, alone, in her room. For what _might_ catch her off guard enough to feel that heat in her cheeks would be just such escape of selfish truth; an admittance of a simple, pure wish from her soul made manifest on her face - both sparkling with sweet voice and burning brighter than any darkness can snuff: _It would feel so nice to hold Akihiko Sanada's hand._

Of course, those gloves of his make the enactment of such desire difficult. The more she pictures, the more she can't ever remember him without them. Switching out for Tartarus happened before meeting up, he didn't seem to mind them while eating, and enlisting Junpei's help for some sort of trickery felt too wrong. Spiraling ruminations conclude with few possibilities besides unseemly potentials within bedrooms, bathrooms, and bath **tubs** which _really_ leave her flushing furiously into her pillow!

Still, a fool with a goal is cursed to embark. She'd have to pay attention to see what opportunities might present. Generally, he remains approachable, so some plausible excuse must exist somewhere within the realm of her capabilities…

The first she actually tries at. Akihiko had never actually invited anyone to watch him practice at the boxing club, and she does wonder if that might be a preferred block of time to himself she'd be intruding upon. But when breaking into each other's personal space is the end goal anyway, it seems like a rational segue. After her own activity finishes, she rushes just in time to catch the final match ( the thrill of watching a friend at their finest - a separate story in itself ). When the chalk settles, she searches the sidelines. There _had_ to be some transition time between boxing gloves and casual gloves, right? A congratulatory cupping of his own hands in hers should affect innocent enough. Yet an unforeseen challenger appears: she finds him already wrapping things up - in bandages, that is. No dreams come true today, Minako. He looks pleased rather than perturbed at her presence, though, which leads to cordial chatter over a shared meal. She'd never count the day as lost.

The second barely scrapes by her. Minako draws her wits about, noting the array of garments on the coffee table upon entering the lobby. Akihiko's to be sure; there he lie sleeping on the couch, and there every piece of outerwear lay nearby. A picture perfect set-up for the gentle entwining of fingers to wake him. Except - for what's _not_ in view. One hand has shoved itself underneath the cushion he cuddles, while the other rests twisted and buried within the fabric still adorning him. The drawing of a caress over any other feature feels yet _too_ intimate, so, gritting teeth, she expresses defeat with the toss of his jacket over a fair face - and a quick quip to counter his mumble.

They say the third time's a charm, and it certainly ends with her cognizance in a storm of stars cloudier than any Marin Karin. She's not expecting, nor plotting, nor even worried about anything but _opposing_ objective in front of her. _Her hands_ are busy gripping hips in defiance of **fangirls.** She puffs up, matching their glares. She's ready to fire off rockets of truth into the rumors they've built up around her, but too quickly does Akihiko ground her fury by lifting one of the burdens from her abdomen and upsetting her balance to pull towards _himself_ ( in effort _away_ from **them** ).

Custom-stitched casings wrap around her palm, silencing her words within _his_ hold. She clasps in return for their retreat: the first time cool leather offers solace to burning skin. It's so far from the soft flesh against flesh in a quiet, tender moment she had planned to capture; instead, they scurry with mutual _energy_ towards a common goal - bound by emperor's initiative in a motion that felt so smooth and natural, like the material gliding between their hands in cycle with each stride. Minako has no need to sense any bolts of pulse or beading sweat to feel his care and concern; the pressure in a protected and protect _ive_ grasp speaks the same. Admittedly, it's hardly an initial contact from any fantasy, but it's _theirs_ , and watching reality on the move makes her feel silly for wishing anything different.

They don't stop until they reach the dorm doors. Held hands loosen, but don't part. She's still lost in a haze and staring, which must have been what makes him question, "Sorry, did I hurt you?" Her dumbfounded gaze rises to find him smiling. Calling attention to the gesture mixed now with such gentleness threatens that warm bloom on her face. She turns away to cover it behind her free hand. Radiant countenance quickly regains to disguise the movement as demure giggle at such a _silly notion_. He's used to such a method of diffusion for his anxieties by now, suspicion of anything further should be far off. She offers one more squeeze in reassurance before the conversation continues along.

So maybe he still hides his hands. So maybe she still hides her truest emotions. So maybe not everything falls away and becomes known all at once like the stories seem to say. It's okay - she feels now. It's okay to move forward while still a little **guarded**.


End file.
